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393416 · 3 days ago

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Can we finally stop comparing Bedard and Celebrini?

I’ve personally found the entire Connor Bedard vs. Macklin Celebrini discourse ridiculous from the very beginning.

Still, I’ve given the people who exploit the topic for easy views and engagement an entire season to figure out what should’ve been obvious: while it’s a tempting comparison on the surface, in reality, it’s completely nonsensical.

So let me yap about this for a while.

Let’s start with the most glaring issue...

You cannot meaningfully compare the Chicago Blackhawks and the San Jose Sharks.

Sure, both are bottom-tier teams fighting for lottery odds rather than playoff spots, but their internal situations — structurally, culturally, and developmentally — couldn’t be more different.

Chicago is one of the NHL’s Original Six — a storied franchise the league would love to see thrive again, both for nostalgia and PR optics. But history alone can’t stabilize a rebuild. What exists in Chicago right now is a dangerous imbalance: a sense of urgency without readiness.

Bedard was drafted into a franchise still reeling from scandal, weighed down by the remnants of dysfunction, and scrambling to rebuild with a mismatched, unstable roster — a patchwork of AHL-level depth players, injury-prone veterans, and raw prospects who’ve been prematurely thrust into roles they're not ready for.

The front office and fan base, both eager for redemption, have placed unrealistic expectations not just on Bedard, but on everyone around him.

There’s no continuity, no sustained chemistry, and very little infrastructure to support a generational talent. Instead of being eased into a system that allows him to grow, Connor was thrown into a bloody chaos.

Throughout his rookie year, he played under over 30 different line combinations — a constant reshuffling that made it nearly impossible to build rhythm, develop chemistry, or find consistency.

Not to mention, this constant change of linemates and roles didn’t just hurt his production — it likely chipped away at his confidence.

A rookie season is supposed to be about finding your footing, getting comfortable in the league’s pace, and discovering your identity as a player on such a high level. Instead, Bedard was forced into survival mode as there was no real opportunity for rhythm, chemistry, or trust — just constant adaptation, which makes it nearly impossible to build the kind of intuitive, instinctive game that’s expected from someone with his level of talent.

And remember — he was navigating all this while carrying the weight of indescribable external pressure.

Every game was dissected, everything he did on and off the ice televised, every mistake magnified. In that kind of media ecosystem, internal consistency becomes even more crucial. But Chicago didn’t offer him that. The only thing the Blackhawks gave him back then was chaos, wrapped in expectation.

From the very beginning, this was never going to be an easy rookie campaign — not because Bedard lacked the skill, but because he was drafted into a franchise that simply wasn’t ready for him yet.

The Chicago Blackhawks, at this stage, are this weird disjointed, transitional space — a rebuild without a blueprint. And in that space, Bedard isn’t just asked to develop. He’s asked to lead. To represent. To elevate. To carry a franchise that hasn’t yet built the infrastructure to be carried.

And somehow, despite all of that, the expectations have remained sky-high.

Not just from fans, not just from the press, but implicitly from within the organization itself — as if simply drafting him was enough to press fast-forward on years of dysfunction. They handed him the keys to a car that’s missing three of its fucking wheels — and then wondered why it isn’t moving fast enough.

Then there’s Chicago's locker room culture — or more accurately, the absence of one.

We don’t have a front-row seat to what goes on behind closed doors, but we can read the signs. And from where I personally stand, it feels like Chicago is still quietly carrying the aftertaste of past off-ice controversies and lingering internal tension. There’s an unease around the team — a kind of cultural hangover — that hasn’t fully cleared.

If someone says “exemplary locker room,” let’s be honest — Chicago isn’t making anyone’s shortlist.

And it’s not just about tone or atmosphere — it’s about what’s missing.

Where’s the mentorship? Where’s the generational hand-off?

While many franchises make an intentional effort to surround their young stars with living symbols of their team’s legacy, Bedard has had no such luxury. Patrick Kane and Jonathan Toews — the franchise pillars — were already gone by the time he arrived. And unlike other clubs, the Blackhawks don’t seem to have any respected, retired alumni regularly around the team.

There was no torch-passing moment. No symbolic welcome into the lineage. Just pressure, expectation, and a void.

Contrast that with what we see elsewhere:

The Bruins still have the likes of Chára, Krejčí, and Bergeron frequently around the team. Add to that strong active-role models like David Pastrňák and Charlie McAvoy.

The Devils lean on the continued involvement of Patrik Eliáš as their legendary franchise player, and have found a quiet cornerstone in Nico Hischier, whose leadership has helped give their room some maturity and solid foundations.

The Penguins practically built their identity around legacy. Mario Lemieux is ever-present. Jágr shows up every now and then. Crosby, Malkin, and Letang still lace up to this day.

And then there’s San Jose — yes, the very team Macklin Celebrini landed on — where the culture may be in the rebuilding stage on the ice, but is remarkably strong behind the scenes.

Joe Thornton isn’t just a former player, he’s an active presence, regularly at the facility, supporting the team as Warsofsky has recently confirmed in an interview. Thornton, as we all probably know, literally housed Celebrini this season. And Patrick Marleau did the same for Will Smith.

These are small, human moments — but they are symbolic of a nurturing, legacy-driven culture they're building in San Jose.

Meanwhile, in Chicago, Bedard is largely navigating this alone — a kid prodigy dropped into a leadership vacuum. And no matter how skilled or mature he is, no one should be expected to rebuild a culture single-handedly, espeically not that young.

On the flip side, the San Jose Sharks are undergoing a rebuild that actually feels like a rebuild should — patient, intentional, and rooted in long-term vision rather than short-term optics.

Everyone involved — from the front office to the coaching staff, from the veteran core to the fanbase — understands this will take time. There are no delusions of overnight transformation, no pressure to suddenly leap into playoff contention.

And because of that shared understanding, there’s far less weight on the shoulders of the young players. They’re not expected to fix everything — they’re expected to learn first.

Where Bedard has been thrust into the role of reluctant savior, expected to carry a legacy franchise back to relevance before he’s even had time to find his footing, Celebrini is being allowed to grow into his identity.

He’s not a lone prodigy — he’s part of a collective rise. He’s surrounded by a wave of fellow prospects: Will Smith, William Eklund, Thomas Bordeleau, Filip Bystedt — all in various stages of development, all figuring it out together.

There's an undeniable sense of shared trajectory in San Jose. They’re building a future — together — and that shared burden makes it lighter.

Even the veterans in San Jose feel different than the ones in Chicago.

Rather than aging stars trying to preserve their careers or plug holes in a leaky roster, the Sharks’ veterans are there with a purpose that’s bigger than their individual stat lines.

There’s a sense of earned leadership, where players like Tyler Toffoli and Alexander Wennberg aren’t just respected for their resumes — they’re valued for their ability to guide the next wave. And that respect is also enhanced by Coach Warsofsky’s old-school coaching mentality, which emphasizes seniority (yes, a philosophy that comes with its own challenges — but that’s another conversation).

These “veterans” — let’s be honest, calling guys in their early 30s “veterans” still feels a bit strange — are being entrusted with meaningful, multidimensional roles as I've already hinted at. They’re not just gap-fillers or stopgaps for underdeveloped rookies. They’re there to model professionalism, consistency, and emotional maturity — to give the room sturdy foundations, stabilize the culture, and set the tone.

Their job is to create a day-to-day rhythm that the young players can lock into and build from. It’s less about masking flaws, more about nurturing growth.

And that difference matters deeply, because in San Jose, the stakes are developmental, not existential.

They’re not trying to claw their way into playoff conversations just yet. They’re building infrastructure — on the ice, in the room, and in the heads of their players. And that mission allows for a calm, functional, and encouraging environment, where development isn’t constantly sabotaged by panic or chaos or ridiculously high demands.

Despite finishing at the very bottom of the league standings, the Sharks didn’t carry the mood of a bottom-feeder. In fact, if you judged them purely on team chemistry, morale, and cohesion, you’d have never guessed they finished dead last.

Because what actually stood out — far more than the final scores — was the atmosphere. This was a group that believed in what they were building, visibly enjoying the process, and genuinely invested in each other’s success. They pushed one another, not out of desperation, but with a shared sense of purpose — a tone that speaks to a surprisingly sturdy cultural foundation.

And that’s no small thing. They’re not just building talent. They’re building character. And over the long haul, that will definitely end up being more valuable than an extra win or two in a season when you don't make the playoffs anyway.

Secondly, regarding the spotlight they've both been given...

The pressure placed on Bedard has been massive, and in many ways unprecedented for someone his age. This isn’t just about being a first-overall pick or called the generational talent — it’s about being a first-overall pick and titled a generational talent in an era where social media has fundamentally changed how young athletes are perceived, consumed, and scrutinized.

Bedard wasn’t just hyped ahead of his draft year — he’s been living in a fishbowl since he was like 14.

Clips of his junior performances racked up hundreds of thousand of views before he could legally drive. NHL fans — and especially NHL media — had already constructed the mythos of “The Next McDavid” before Bedard had ever faced an NHL-caliber opponent. And by the time he finally put on a Blackhawks jersey, he wasn’t just joining the league — he was expected to somehow rebrand it.

He wasn’t framed as another promising young player. He was framed as a literal saviour. For the Chicago Blackhawks. For a mess of a franchise. And, if we’re being honest, for a league always desperate for a marketable face to build its image around.

And in doing so, the NHL — along with its broadcasters, fanbases, and marketing departments — placed the full weight of its branding machine squarely on the shoulders of a teenager.

But this suffocating spotlight hasn’t only created a nearly impossible set of expectations for Bedard himself — it’s also outshone the rest of the Blackhawks’ emerging talent.

Chicago’s rebuild is not as barren as it seems, but you’d barely know that if you were to rely solely on mainstream narratives.

Players like Frank Nazar, Alex Vlasic, Artyom Levshunov, and Colton Dach — all of whom are legitimate, exciting prospects in their own right — have been completely overshadowed. Not because they’re underwhelming or unworthy of hype, but because the narrative has become so singularly focused.

When people talk about the Blackhawks, it’s not “Bedard and Nazar and Vlasic.” It’s just Bedard.

It’s his name in every headline, his face on every graphic, his highlights that dominate the reels. And while that kind of stardom may seem flattering on paper, in practice it turns everything into a one-man show, often at the cost of the team’s broader development.

The result?

Connor is literally carrying the franchise’s marketing, the fans’ hopes, the league’s branding agenda — and doing it without much narrative room for anyone else to share the load.

In contrast, while Celebrini entered the NHL with considerable anticipation — a first-overall pick, a Hobey Baker winner, and a well-established, exciting prospect — the intensity, volume, and singularity of the attention surrounding him has never come close to what Connor Bedard faced.

And that’s not accidental. San Jose seems to understand the risks of overexposure — and may very well be intentionally structuring their narrative to avoid repeating not just Chicago's mistake.

Rather than positioning Celebrini as some lone saviour, the Sharks have leaned into a broader, collective identity. Their messaging — whether it’s coming from the front office, coaching staff, or their media team — consistently emphasizes a shared journey.

You don’t just hear about Macklin. You hear about Will Smith, William Eklund, Thomas Bordeleau, and even steady, experienced voices like Tyler Toffoli and Alexander Wennberg. Even about their coach, now that Warsofsky has won the gold at the Worlds with the Team USA after an absurd number of years of gold drought.

They’ve offered fans a roster of "characters" to invest in, rather than one golden child to pin the entire franchise’s hopes on.

And yes — it might sound trivial to some, but in today’s media landscape, even something as “superficial” as a well-run social media presence can radically reshape how players are perceived and pressured.

San Jose’s social media team isn’t just active — they’re smart. They understand how to humanize the roster, spotlight friendships, amplify light-hearted content, and build rapport between the players and the fans. And that broader attention distribution matters more than most realize.

Take, for instance, the now-iconic dynamic between Celebrini and Will Smith.

What began as simple chemistry between two young players has organically grown into one of the most beloved “ships” in the current NHL fandom. It’s not just that they’re roommates or sometimes linemates — they’ve built a visible, genuine friendship, full of shared interviews, inside jokes, funny mic’d-up moments, and off-ice banter.

And the team has wisely embraced it, not in a forced or exploitative way, but in a way that embraces their chemistry and makes them more accessible to fans.

Whether you're watching game-day content, behind-the-scenes features, or scrolling through Tumblr or TikTok, it’s clear: Macklin and Will are a duo in the public eye.

And that pairing isn’t just good for the vibes — it’s a psychological safety net. It spreads the spotlight. It keeps Macklin from being cast as a solitary superhero, expected to carry the weight of a franchise and the league’s hopes on his own.

This matters. A lot.

Because when the public begins to think of Celebrini not just as Macklin, but as Macklin-and-Will, they subconsciously shift the narrative away from burdening a teenager with singular heroism. San Jose’s decision to spotlight that friendship doesn’t just resonate with fans (I mean, just look at how popular they're on here) — it actively builds an emotional buffer between Macklin and the crushing pressures that have consumed players in similar positions.

In short, what some might dismiss as fandom fluff — the “shipping,” the memes, the edits — actually has a real emotional and psychological impact. Will Smith isn’t just Macklin’s linemate or teammate; he’s part of the narrative armour that keeps Macklin from becoming hockey’s next overexposed prodigy.

And it goes far deeper than just optics or marketing — because this friendship between Macklin and Will isn’t just helping Macklin grow as a player. It’s helping him grow as a person.

This is something so often overlooked in conversations about young athletes — especially those thrust into the spotlight from day one. The NHL, like any high-stakes professional league, is brutal. The schedule is relentless, the media pressure is constant, and the personal cost of fame at that age is often quietly staggering.

In that kind of environment, having someone beside you who knows you, who gets you, who in a way grounds you, can make all the difference in the world. It’s a layered, deeply human phenomenon — and one that honestly deserves an entire deep dive of its own. But the core idea is this: nobody thrives alone.

You see it across the league — and not just in gameplay, but in resilience, longevity, and emotional well-being. The best players often don’t just have skill. They have someone. A partner-in-crime. A brother-in-arms. A best friend.

Look at Connor McDavid, for example.

He is, by every metric, a generational player — but he’s not climbing that mountain alone. His relationship with Leon Draisaitl has been fundamental to both his personal and professional development. Yes, Draisaitl is a Hart-winning, top-tier force in his own right — but beyond stats and recognition, it’s the bond between them that makes such a difference.

They’re not just line partners. They’re lifelines in a sense.

Draisaitl doesn’t just help Edmonton win — he helps McDavid breathe, exist, and sustain. He absorbs some of the pressure. He shares the weight. He laughs with him. Holds him up. And while all of what have I just said might sound sentimental and cheesy to some, that emotional safety net matters more than most fans will ever realise.

And it’s a pattern — not a one-off.

Sidney Crosby has Evgeni Malkin.

Auston Matthews has Mitch Marner.

Jack Hughes has Nico Hischier.

Tyler Seguin has Jamie Benn.

David Pastrňák has had David Krejčí, Patrice Bergeron, Brad Marchand, and now Pavel Zacha.

This isn't just about on-ice chemistry. It's about having someone in the trenches with you — someone who makes you feel like you're not shouldering it all alone. It creates room for joy. For vulnerability. For growth.

Take Juraj Slafkovský — another recent first-overall pick, dropped into a difficult situation in Montreal, and quickly labeled a bust by impatient fans. His rookie year was full of uneven play and mounting expectations. But this past season?

He’s started to come into his own. His confidence has grown, his game has taken a leap, and he’s visibly more comfortable — not just on the ice, but in himself. And while coaching and development obviously play crucial roles, there’s another piece often missed: his friendship with Arber Xhekaj.

Xhekaj has become more than just a teammate. He’s a stabilising presence — a guy who jokes with him, supports him, protects him when needed, and offers genuine connection in a high-pressure space. That kind of bond helps a young player feel safer, braver, freer — and that translates into performance.

That’s why the Macklin–Will Smith dynamic in San Jose matters. Because it’s not just cute content or fun branding. It’s foundational. Will is someone Macklin clearly trusts, someone who pulls him out of his shell, who lightens the load, who turns the spotlight into something they can share — and even laugh about.

And that, more than almost anything else, is what gives a young player the best chance at sustainable greatness: the freedom to grow with joy, rather than survive under pressure.

And then, there’s Bedard.

As of now, he hasn’t found that person — at least not in any visible, lasting way. There’s no clear “partner-in-crime” in Chicago, no off-ice duo whose bond you can sense through interviews, bench chatter, or behind-the-scenes content. No teammate who seems to offer that steadying presence — someone to joke with, confide in, decompress around.

That’s not a criticism of his teammates. Chemistry like that can’t be scripted or summoned on demand. It’s not something a team can orchestrate in a locker room spreadsheet or PR strategy session. Sometimes, it’s just pure, dumb luck — two personalities colliding at the right time, fitting together in a way that transcends roles or expectations. When it happens, it’s a bit of magic, really. When it doesn’t, it leaves a silence you can’t quite name, but one you definitely feel.

And in Bedard’s case, that silence has been growing.

Because unlike Macklin in San Jose — who already has someone beside him — Connor's journey so far has felt deeply solitary.

He’s not just the rookie. He’s the brand. The product. The saviour narrative wrapped in skates and Chicago red. And all the emotional labour that comes with that has seemingly landed on his shoulders alone. Whether intentional or not, the way he’s been positioned — both by the organisation and the broader media ecosystem — has left him in a uniquely isolated space.

He’s always front and centre, but never truly surrounded. Always watched, but not often seen. And for a kid — a literal kid — trying to find his place not just in the league, but in a locker room, a city, and a sport that demands constant output and perfection, that’s a dangerous kind of solitude.

And then, of course, there’s the personality discourse — arguably the most shallow and absurd layer of the Bedard vs. Celebrini comparison.

For whatever reason, people seem to believe that as soon as a player becomes a professional athlete — especially one with generational-level hype — they’re supposed to suddenly morph into full-blown entertainers. The assumption is that media training magically turns 18-year-olds into camera-savvy, quote-dropping, endlessly charismatic personalities with perfect timing and mass appeal.

But newsflash: that’s not how people work.

Bedard and Celebrini are different human beings. Not hockey bots. Not fan service machines. Human beings. And the fact that one might be more naturally reserved or less outwardly expressive doesn’t make him boring or robotic — it makes him real, if anything.

The whole “Connor has no emotions” narrative is not just unfair — it’s ridiculous. It flattens him into a caricature, based purely on the absence of performative extroversion in media clips. And it ignores the fact that Bedard is still a bloody teenager.

He’s navigating not just the NHL, but an avalanche of attention that would make most adults crumble — and doing so in a city and franchise where pressure isn’t just constant, it’s institutional.

Meanwhile, Macklin seems more animated, more laid back, more comfortable on camera — and yeah, he is. But let’s be honest about why.

A huge part of that is Will Smith (fucking hell, I should've titled this Bedard vs. Celebrini ft. Smith).

Those two are almost never apart in the media landscape. They riff off each other, bounce energy back and forth, and create a dynamic that’s not only fun — it’s safe. Macklin isn’t just “good at interviews.” He’s relaxed because most of the time, he’s not alone. He has someone next to him who pulls that side out of him — someone who makes the spotlight feel less like interrogation and more like inside jokes.

That’s not just personality. That’s context.

It’s the difference between being handed a microphone solo, with the weight of an entire franchise’s future resting on your teenage shoulders — and sharing it with a friend who turns pressure into laughter. And if you don’t think that changes how a player comes off in interviews, you haven’t been paying attention to literally any aspect of human psychology.

Connor doesn’t have that. Not right now. He doesn’t have a media-sidekick. He doesn’t have a built-in support system that shows up in every post-practice clip. So of course he comes off more subdued. He’s not less of a person — he just hasn’t been given the space to be one publicly.

And not everyone wants that spotlight, either — nor should they have to perform for it.

Expecting these kids to be not just elite athletes but also professional entertainers is an exhausting, outdated, and deeply toxic ask. If we’re measuring worth solely by how memeable someone is, we’ve lost the plot.

Judge them by how they carry themselves when no one’s watching. By how they treat their teammates, deal with adversity, and find strength under pressure. Not by how many “he’s so real for that” TikToks they generate after a post-game interview.

So no, Connor Bedard isn’t "boring."

He’s under a microscope, playing on a fractured team, expected to carry an entire city, and probably still figuring out who he is off the ice.

If you think he owes you a soundbite on top of that? You’re missing the point.

In the end, the Bedard vs. Celebrini discourse misses the point so spectacularly that it’s almost not worth engaging with — and yet, it persists.

These are two exceptionally gifted young players, navigating two entirely different landscapes. Different teams. Different locker rooms. Different levels of institutional support. Different kinds of pressure — external and internal. Different media environments. Different personalities.

And that’s before we even get into the actual hockey — their playstyles, technical profiles, and roles on the ice, which are already distinct and evolving in their own right. That whole angle is a complex conversation by itself, and it’s one I’ve intentionally sidestepped here — because this wasn’t meant to be a scout’s breakdown. This is about the human side. The environment. The structure (or lack thereof) around them. The culture they’ve been dropped into.

Because you can’t compare them fairly — statistically, emotionally, or socially — without acknowledging that they’re not even being asked to play the same game, metaphorically or literally.

To do so is not just intellectually lazy — it’s dehumanizing.

This isn’t a rivalry. It’s not a race. It’s not a fucking popularity contest. These aren’t characters in a narrative we’re writing — they’re real people trying to grow, succeed, and stay sane under pressures most of us will never understand.

So maybe instead of stacking them against each other in every post, quote, and highlight reel, we try be empathetic. Maybe we let Connor Bedard be a quieter kid carrying too much on a team that’s given him too little, and let Macklin Celebrini be a more relaxed kid thriving in a better-structured system with a friend at his side, without pretending one is inherently more worthy than the other.

Anyway — if you made it this far, thanks for sitting through my rant. I promise I'm not always this philosophical about hockey. Just sometimes. When it matters.

#Wonderful read op #ive been coming back to this all day and literally crying sorry connor just makes me emotional #it irks me to see the two of them being compared especially by someone that doesnt watch or pay attention to both of them equally #i think back on that article that quoted connors mom talking about how sometimes kids were mean or that the parents were weirdly intense #esp abt connor given his whole Savior Jesus status even as a 14 year old #stuff like that makes me cry

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393416 · 4 days ago

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Connor Bedard and Fraser Minten; through the years - a primer

before we get into it i wanna say that @tor16 and i have been working on this primer and compiling as much as we could over the course of a couple months so we could have everything in one place. we tried our best to link our sources to everything also to double as an archive for them. ok thats it thank you go nuts!

Connor Bedard and Fraser Minten met in the spring of 2017. Fraser was 13 Connor was 12.

“First time meeting Connor (around spring 2017) I was 13 and I remember he came out to a skate with my spring hockey team,” Minten told the Tribune in a text conversation. “Everyone was young at that age and didn’t really pay attention to who’s who or what’s really happening. Just go out on the ice and have a blast with your friends. So Connor was just another body. But I distinctly remember, right away we were doing this 1-on-1 battle drill out of the corner, and Connor went up against our best player, first rep, and the way he was able to stick-handle around him and then finish it off was insane. He made our best player look silly.”

Fraser studied his shot and stick-handling the entire time they practiced.

“The creative plays he was making just didn’t happen at that age. I would try and shoot as quick as him in my rep and the puck would barely get off the ice.”

He mentioned seeing Connor out on the ice with NHL players like Ryan Nugent-Hopkins and Matthew Barzal and thinking he was “just as good if not better than them.”

"He was shooting the puck just as good if not better than those guys. And that was probably when I realized it was pretty world-class, that release."

Fraser has talked a lot about noticing how skilled Connor was even when they were still so young, how he always expected to see him succeed.

“I ended up on the ice with him a lot over the next spring/summer as I started going to the North Shore winter club … and every day (my friends and I) would go there, Connor would be on the ice. It seemed that he was always there before we arrived and was still on the ice as we were leaving. Whether it be specifically practicing one-timers, doing shootouts for hours or just gliding around flicking pucks around, talking about different scenarios, he just simply loved being on the ice and playing around and the joy he got from it seemed inexhaustible. By the time I got to play with him for the first time the following year at West Van, I was not surprised at all at the level he was playing at. I’d seen him make goalies years older than him look like sieves, scoring crazy releases that kids that age didn’t even think about. He knew how to get defenders to put their stick exactly where he needed them and then slip it under, go around them and the puck was through the goalie’s five-hole before they had even set for the shot.”

The next year they were teammates for West Van Warriors and became good friends.

“He never treated you like he was way better than you, even though he was, and wouldn’t get frustrated with you when you would make mistakes. This made it really easy to learn from him and made playing with him so much fun.”

According to their coach, Minten learned a lot from playing with him.

“He identified he had one of the best shooters on the planet in Connor Bedard on his team. He said, ‘I’m going to have the courage to stay as close to Connor in shooting practice as I can’.”

Some pictures of them from their West Van era (both from Minten’s instagram)

This would pay off, because the two of them led the team in shooting percentage that year.

Their stats during their time playing together.

You can see them playing together here, Connor is wearing #98 and Fraser is #16.

Connor was given exceptional status to play in the WHL despite being a year younger, he was drafted to the Regina Pats and Minten was drafted to the Kamloops Blazers. Despite no longer being teammates, they still kept in touch and remained friends.

Minten was asked about Connor Bedard before he was set out to play against him in the Regina vs Blazers game in Kamloops.

“Yeah he’s one of my good friends back home, great guy, excited to play against him.” Q: Have you talked to him about what it’s like to go through this media frenzy? “No, I haven’t really talked to him about it. I’m sure he’d rather just not hear about it for once. I think it’s pretty crazy for him, it probably feels a little surreal at times–he’s just trying to play hockey and have some fun and he gets a lot of attention for sure.” Q: What do you think it would be like to be in his shoes? “Yeah it’d be tough I bet. It’s pretty hard to deal with the outside noise when you’ve got that much of it all the time but if there’s a guy who can deal with it well, it would be him.”

Even during the off seasons, they spend a lot of time together training, skating, and even doing inline hockey. In a media availability in 2024, Minten talks about how often they see each other in the summers and that they’re still pretty close.

Q: How much are you still in touch with Connor Bedard? “Yeah I still talk to him quite a bit, I mean in the summer we get to see each other almost every day training, so hopefully get to go say hi to him after this.”

Some pictures of them together during the offseason. training pics from their trainer's website.

This is a post from the inline hockey league they competed in, and this is a video from one of the summer tournaments they played in together.

They also like to interact with each other on instagram so here are some of their replies on each other's posts:

During the NHL draft in 2022, Connor Bedard, who was slated to be the first-overall pick for the 2023 draft, flew out to Montreal to watch the draft.

Coincidentally, this year was also the year that Fraser Minten got drafted to the Leafs. The draft happened on July 7, 2022, just two days after Minten’s birthday. According to this tweet, he had arrived at Montreal on his birthday, and would be rooming with Connor Bedard.

“I remember before our bantam season, he wasn’t even really projected to get drafted into the WHL,” says the 17-year-old Bedard, who helped Canada advance to Saturday’s final at the world junior hockey championship at Rogers Place. “He put up, like, 70 points or something like that, so I knew he was going to be the steal of the draft. To see him going as high as he did to Toronto, one of the biggest franchises — he was pumped. It was really cool for me to see that.” “He was obviously a big help in my career,” Minten says of Bedard, “from playing with him and just learning so much from being by his side, and watching how hard he works every day and how much he gives to the game ... So, it was really cool for him to be there and it was really good for him, as well, getting a bit of a look at what it’s like in person prior to (his draft year).”

When asked about the pressure Connor was facing as the projected first overall pick, Fraser also said:

“I don’t think he worries about that stuff at all,” Minten says. “For him, it’s just about playing the game. He just loves the game, and everything that comes with it is a bonus for him. I don’t think he’s worried at all about what other people say … I think, by the end, he’ll be right where everyone hopes he is.”

Also worth highlighting that this is the title of the article all of these quotes come from:

Another fun fact about the 2022 draft; Chicago gave Toronto the pick that they used for Minten.

In a trade with Chicago, the Leafs traded Petr Mrazek and a first round pick (25th) in exchange for a second round pick (38th). The second round pick would turn out to be what the Leafs used to draft Fraser Minten.

“And like Cowan, the Leafs were set on Minten. Though they were slated to pick at 25, they began to believe they could nab Minten later on. He was still on the board on day two at 38 after a trade with the Chicago Blackhawks allowed the Leafs to pick high in the second round.”

Also, just for the sake of including this somewhere, they also share an agent.

The summer before the 2023-24 season began, the two of them lived together in Toronto for a few weeks. Why Connor was in Toronto is not actually known, but they’ve both brought this up multiple times—when they refer to living together, this is the time period they’re talking about.

In this interview, Fraser gets asked about the phone calls he made after making the team and says he “... called my good buddies from junior teams and bantam midget teams I played with right away.”

According to this interview, Connor and Fraser exchanged messages of support for one another during training camp. Minten was also asked who was the better player when they were linemates in West Van:

"Him, by a mile," Minten said. "By a mile. Hopefully we get to play against each other at some point."

After Minten made the Leafs roster, “his WHL pal Connor Bedard sent him a good luck message and said “I hope I play against you”.”

The Leafs and Blackhawks played against each other on October 16th 2023, which was their first NHL game against one another. Connor was asked about playing against him for the first time:

“Of course you dream about it, once I got picked and we knew he was here of course—we actually lived together for a little bit this summer in Toronto, so we talked about it a bit there. I don’t know if you guys [in the media] expected him to make the team. In his mind, he expected to make the team, and I never expected anything less from him. The way he earned that spot, he showed everyone,” Bedard said. “Right when it was announced he made the team, we were fired up, talking about how it feels like yesterday we were playing on a line in bantam. It’s crazy how time flies. It’s really special.”

Minten was asked what he remembers from their days of playing together, if they ever talked about playing against each other at the NHL level:

“I don’t think we ever talked about that, obviously we both wanted that to happen—probably him more than me at that point, he probably thought it was more of a realistic possibility. But I remember he was just unreal, better than everybody and could score at will, and was also just a super humble and hardworking kid.”

Minten also got asked “how to stop him”, and said “he can do everything, so you just want to limit his space, time, and get the puck away from him.”

Later in October, in response to a question about locker room arguments over CHL rivalries, Connor’s first example of another player who came up through the WHL was: “I grew up playing with Fraser Minten in Toronto, that’s pretty cool.”

In this interview, Minten gets asked: “I don't know how many people have asked you—probably a million—being Connor Bedards close friend and teammate, I'm assuming you're not surprised with what he's done since he left North Van, in the dub and in the NHL, probably not surprised at all?”

“No, no, not at all. He works harder than anybody else, like significantly. I think his teammates in Chicago would say the same thing. He's got a level of commitment and passion and dedication that is genuinely unmatched by some of the superstars in the NHL, I think. I think we’ll continue to see him defy people’s expectations, and even if he doesn’t he’ll be doing everything he can to, so, I wouldn’t bet against him that’s for sure.”

In 2023, Fraser Minten was selected to be the captain for World Juniors and Connor sent him a congratulatory message.

In this video with WJC Team Canada, in response to a question about the first time scouts started showing up at his games, Minten said:

“I remember there started being a lot of guys in black jackets at games when I started playing with Connor. There would be lots of them because he was special—still is.”

In this Leafs TikTok where the prompt was to give a compliment to the person behind you, Minten points to his teammate’s jersey and says “best 98 out there.” Presumably a friendly chirp towards first overall 2023 draft pick Connor Bedard.

In this media availability from the Leafs-Blackhawks game in December 2024, Minten was asked what it was like to play against Connor again a year later.

“Yeah it's awesome, anytime it’s the uh—you know, it's the NHL and we’re playing against each other. If you told us that when we were 13-14 we would’ve found it really cool, so it’s special for sure.”

Fraser Minten scored his second NHL goal against the Chicago Blackhawks later that day.

(BONUS: Fraser usually has a crazy game when he plays against Connor. In the Pats vs Blazers game he was awarded second star for his 2 goals and 1 assist game, totaling 3 points in the Blazers 9-3 victory over the Pats. He scored his second NHL goal against the Blackhawks, helping Toronto win against Chicago 4-1. In 2025 after being recalled by the Bruins and playing vs the Blackhawks, despite a loss, he led the team in both SOG and shifts taken. Pasta went on to say that Minten’s line was the best line that night.)

After the trade to Boston, Minten spent a couple games playing in Providence before getting the call up to play for the Bruins, a couple days before the Bruins were set to play against the Blackhawks in Boston. There were no schedules the day before the game so they took the opportunity to get dinner together at Abe & Louie’s.

“They had the opportunity to go out to dinner last night. And for Fraser Minten, he just got to town. Asked, where’d you decide to go, where’d you take him? He said ‘I googled steakhouse and some place– Abe something came up.’ I said, good choice! Abe & Louie’s!”

BONUS: idk where to put this bc for some reason I can’t find where this came from but here’s a picture of Minten wearing a Chicago Blackhawks hat from 2021 (also, somehow the only NHL teams that Minten follows on instagram are the Leafs (drafted to) the Bruins (traded to) the Canucks (vancouver kid) and the Blackhawks (???)

(same hat just backwards, from minten's instagram)

4/16/25 - this is all for now. this primer will be updated anytime something significant happens.

UPDATE - 06/20/25

Clips (not mine) of Connor and Fraser taken in Vancouver for their summer training program with Kaivo.

#updated the primer!#edited the og post btw #fraser minten #connor bedard

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